


deals struck

by fivegoldpieces (alexthealrighthuman)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Originally Posted on Tumblr, a long while ago tbh, spoilers for c2e93
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24804544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexthealrighthuman/pseuds/fivegoldpieces
Summary: Beau takes Isharnai's deal.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & The Mighty Nein, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	deals struck

“Do we have a deal?”

The hag leans forward and extends her hand, fingers hooked unnaturally as she grins. Saliva pools at the corner of her mouth, constantly dripping on the table.

“Deal.”

Soulless eyes pin the monk, but Beau doesn’t flinch, not when she feels the leathery texture of too-old skin, not when fingernails dig into her bruised knuckles, not when shadows move towards her as she shakes the hand offered.

The hag reclines in her chair, head thrown back in satisfaction, a bark of almost-laughter pulling itself from her chest. She waves a hand and the monk hears the thud of the door open behind her, “Better start saying your goodbyes soon.”

“How long do I have?”

The grin on the hag’s face grows impossibly wide. “As long as I give you.”

Beau says nothing, does nothing but turn around and walk out of the hut, jaw clenched and fists shaking.

—

She manages to ignore the burn at the corner of her eyes, up until she closes the door to the hut. She feels rather than sees the Nein - the prickle of attention on the back of her neck, the bated breaths as she turns to them, the itch in her throat begging to be let out as she sees the fear on their faces.

She tries not to cry when she tells them, she does, really.

But Fjord is making the same face he does when he’s about to collapse during their workouts, and Caleb is staring off into space, his hand twitching as if he’s looking for her shoulder to hold onto. Yasha's eyes are as wide as when she woke the day after they left Lorenzo dead, Caduceus looks more scared than he had ever been on the Ball Eater, and Nott is looking at her with such loss and gratitude and pain, and-

Jester has drawn back, her tail rigid behind her, the familiar tinkling of her jewelry absent. The ground below her starts to harden and freeze, her hands slowly curling into fists, body shuddering with each breath as if she was being punched in the gut, fangs almost poking out in a snarl, eyes full of hurt and confusion and anger- all directed at Beau.

A sight to behold. Something she had hoped to see more than once.

Beau falters, lets whatever words on her lips tumble out into silence. She steps towards Jester, hand reaching out -

She grabs nothing but air.

—

Beau blinks and she finds herself standing in a room, boots tracking mud onto hardwood floor. Her hand falls limp by her side.

Her stomach churns and the room is spinning, so she finds somewhere to sit, lets her eyes jump around the room. In the corner, a large bed meant for a dog. Shelves all around her full of trinkets and books. A familiar statue tucked in between a book and a potted plant. Almost unnoticeable, if Beau hadn’t been privy to how it was hidden.

She feels the tingle of magic climb up her spine and curl around her ear- Sending.

She sucks in a breath as she hears Jester, asking if she’s alright, asking where she is, asking her what she did, sent one after the other.

_“-don’t you answer-”_

She tries to make a sound, a noise, _something_ , but a sharp pain sinks its claws into her neck, chokes her until she can barely breathe, the voice in her head the only thing keeping the shadows of unconsciousness at bay.

_“-love you so much, Beau, why-”_

The tears come slowly, warm like the rain in Kamordah.

—

Reani finds her in the living room, hours later. Her delighted smile fades into worry at the sight of Beau: alone, freshly-bruised knuckles, scratches from brambles and thorns, clinging scent of swamp, eyes puffy. She sits down next to her- gentle, as if she’s afraid Beau would run away.

Beau almost laughs. There’s nowhere for her to go now.

—

Beau tells her the gist of what happened and Reani insists on letting her crash on the couch as long as she needs, says it’s the least she could do for a friend. Beau doesn’t know how to thank her, so she resolves to make herself less of a burden than she already is.

She may not be a monk anymore, not in name at least, but she’d always been quick on her feet and smart with her fists. The guard reckon her too skilled for perimeter watch, so they send her out with the patrol groups to fight all kinds of creatures that get too close to the mountain- dire wolves and wyverns, more often than not.

Some days she visits the forge with Reani and learns how to communicate with her hands from Deilin and even picks up some smithing skills from Umi. Other days she finds herself deep in the stacks of the Vellum Steeple, reading anything and everything she could get her hands on. A couple of times she helps the archers with target practice. Fen always manages to land in a few good shots.

Days blend together. Umi doesn’t glare as strongly when she calls him Umi. Fen even shoots her a not-frown every once in a while. She falls into routine.

—

Early mornings she works out behind the house and tries not to think about tusks and the scent of seawater. She helps take care of the plants and tries not to think of carefully pressed flowers or the taste of freshly-brewed tea. In the Archive, she finds herself listening for the rustle of pages and the scribble of ink on paper to accompany her own. The thwack of arrows and bowstrings remind her of the thud of crossbow bolts and the swish of alcohol.

She refuses to set foot inside the bakery.

—

Everyday, magic crawls its way into her ear and whispers of what she gave up. Sometimes it’s Caleb, bringing updates about the war. Other times it’s Caduceus with cryptic messages that make her head hurt. Most of the time it’s Jester, talking about her day, who they saw, what they did.

Some days all she hears are snippets, their voices broken up like waves against rocks. Other days it’s as if they’re right next to her and she has to fight the urge to talk back, clawing pressure in her lungs growing unbearable if she even entertains the thought.

On those days, she finds herself wandering around the city. Every society has a criminal underbelly, and Uthodurn is no exception. Beau pieces together locations and meeting places from conversations she and Reani have over dinner.

She joins a fighting ring, let’s the crunch of bone and the warmth of blood drown the voices out. Afterwards, she steals mail. She never gets caught.

From criminal, to monk, to Expositor and hero of a nation, back to where she was before. She expected as much.

—

It’s almost impossible to see stars from the back Reani’s house, but if Beau presses on her eyelids hard enough, explosions of color paint the barren ceiling of rock above her. In a way, it reminds her of Hupperdook - this time, she doesn’t have flower necklaces, but goodbyes she has plenty. 

She wonders how Kiri is, wonders if her and Luc and TJ would’ve gotten along.

Reani joins her sometimes. Sometimes they just stare at the ceiling, sometimes they talk. When they do, it’s mostly Beau listening and Reani talking.

“Your friends are strong,” she says one night, the light of her halo making interesting patterns in Beau’s vision, “The war is over now. I’m sure they’ll find a way to break the curse.”

_If they still wanted to._

Beau bites her tongue until she tastes metal and stares up until the explosions blur together.

—

_“Beau, I know you can hear me. I don’t know why you won’t answer, but I hope you’re okay, wherever you are. We’re trying to-”_

_“- find a way — the hag — traveling to —”_

_“- be fine — Just hold on, okay? — you so much. I wish — showed you — I’m sorry.”_

—

“You loved her didn’t you?” Reani asks one night as they limp towards her house - a pack of dire wolves had caused trouble in the woods north of Uthodurn.

Beau pauses by the door, then bends down to unlace her boots. Distantly, she thinks of her first battle against a Remorhaz- fists burning with each punch, keeping track of the half-orc as well as the tiefling in the creature’s grasp, ears tuned to the murmur of arcane magic, the feel of hardened bone sinking into her side, taste of metal filling her mouth.

Warmth as her muscles stitched itself together, strong arms holding her, purple eyes full of anger directed at the slithering creature.

She pulls herself out of her memories, the weight of the Aasimar’s stare making her shoulders tense. She places her boots by the door.

“Yeah,” Beau croaks out, coughs to clear her throat, turns and meets her gaze “I- Yeah.”

Reani simply nods, something akin to understanding in her eyes. She shuffles closer to Beau, lays a hand on her shoulder and pulls her into a hug.

—

The Sendings stop coming.

—

One shot becomes two becomes five becomes ten becomes twenty becomes more and yet the dullness doesn’t come, doesn’t drown the burning in her lungs nor the searing ache in her chest nor the tiny bit of relief that she doesn’t have to listen to her friends move on without her. 

A dwarf is eyeing her, brown eyes and light brown skin, smirk playing on her lips. Pretty.

Beau places a platinum piece on the bar, feels the confused stare from the dwarf as she leaves without looking back.

—

One hit against the jaw, two steps to the right, five jabs in a row, ten seconds to take a breath, twenty minutes deep into the forest.

She cleans her boots outside, leans them against the house to keep the floors clean. Reani is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a healer’s kit on the table waiting next to a plate of food. 

She swallows down the scream in her chest and curls up on the couch until morning comes.

—

Reani tells her to wait at The Broken Stool, had said she had something exciting to show her. Why she told her at the crack of dawn, Beau didn’t know.

She moves to drink her mug of ale when a hand yanks on her shoulder, bringing the tankard down to her lap. She swears, snaps her head up-

-but then-

The clink of jewelry. Strong arms around her shoulders. Rough pointed bone against her cheek. Cold weight on her wrist, hot tears on her collarbone, the scent of pastries and blood and sweat and smoke-

“Jes’?” Beau chokes out, muscles locked and heart pounding because this can’t be real, “Is this- Is it really you?”

The hold on her tightens and Beau feels a nod, a horn jutting into her chin. The pressure in her lungs leaves with one breath and she melts against the tiefling, wraps one arm around her waist, runs her fingers against the base of Jester’s horns. One moment stretches into two, and the stares from the other patrons make her skin itch but she doesn’t care.

Jester pulls herself from the embrace, just enough to be able to face her. Soft hands cup her cheeks, thumbs tracing the dark circles underneath her eyes. Purple stares so intensely, flit everywhere its gaze could reach- lips to chin to temple as if the tiefling was committing each shape and feature to memory, like she’s scared Beau would disappear if she looks away.

Her lungs ache, breathless in the best and worst way, and she can’t stop herself -

“I’m sorry." 

The gentle strokes against her skin stop. She catches a flash of _something_ in Jester’s eyes, too quick for her to figure out but potent enough to make her shoulders tense. She averts her gaze, tries to chase away the sudden feeling of cold creeping into her stomach.

Silence seeps in, floods the space between them until she feels like a ship chasing the horizon. Beau finds herself eyeing the entrance, the windows, muscles locked and ready to flee but she doesn’t want to leave.

A quiet sigh barely reaches her ears. She feels Jester’s palms slowly drop from her face to her hands, their fingers intertwining.

"I was mad at you, you know?” says Jester softly, rueful smile tugging on her lips, “So so mad.”

Beau tears her gaze away from the window calling to her and turns to Jester, slew of words ready to run out of her chest- apologies, explanations, neither. She meets her gaze, expecting to see anger, hurt, disappointment, all three even.

Yet all she sees is tiredness, a mirror to her own, and suddenly all the words on the tip of her tongue vanish.

Jester watches her own fingers trace circles on the back of Beau’s hand. “I think I scared the others a bit, how angry I was” she laughs, short and subdued, “I wish you were there to see it, you would’ve been so proud.”

“I’m still mad. And we still need to talk. All of us.” she looks up at Beau, gives her hand a squeeze, smile growing a little bit brighter, “But right now I’m just really glad you’re not like, dead or something. Like, the hag was saying _all_ of these crazy things when we were killing her, like she was all like ‘she’s already dead!’ and we were all like ‘fuck you!’ and then she was like ‘her soul is bonded to me for eternity!’ and- ”

“Wait,” Beau interrupts, “Sorry, you guys _killed_ Isharnai?”

Jester rolls her eyes. “Well duh. How do you think we got to you?” her brows furrow, “We Sent to you like, right after it happened, did you not get it?”

“No. I got the other ones, and then they just kinda stopped coming, like a few weeks ago,” Beau shrugs, rubs the back of her tingling neck, “Honestly, kinda thought you guys were dead. Or finally got tired of me.”

Jester jerks back, sputtering, “ _Tired_ of you? Beau, we would _never_ , we love you so much!”

Beau makes a noncommittal hum, shrugs again.

“We _do_ ,” she insists. Beau feels the tiefling squeeze her hand tightly. “ _I_ love you so much,” Jester finishes quietly, blinks once, twice.

Beau feels dizzy, the somersaults in her stomach doing nothing to help. “I love you, too, you know that.”

“No!” Beau’s face falls, and Jester panics, lets go of Beau’s hand and waves her arms frantically, “Wait, no, I mean, yes! I know, you love me, but I mean _-_ ”

“Beau!”

They jerk away from each other, the shout clearly heard over the din of the tavern. Her heart stutters - she knows that voice.

Nott bursts through the entryway first, almost unrecognizable to Beau in her halfling form, if not for the crossbow on her back and the jade bracelet on her wrist. Yasha runs in afterward, Frumpkin resting on her head and almost trips on Nott in her haste to get inside. Caduceus hurries inside, nearly hits his head on the door frame. Caleb and Fjord stumble in right on his heels, both of them out of breath.

Caduceus sees her first and begins to squeeze his way towards her, murmuring apologies to the bar patrons he jostles. Fjord follows suit, dragging Caleb by his coat sleeve. Yasha and Nott keep close behind them, Frumpkin slinking between a half-elf’s legs. 

Jester pulls away from her, keeps a hand on her back and her tail wrapped around Beau’s wrist. The somersaults in her stomach are back again, except this time they’re jumping on her lungs and scratching under her skin and beating on her throat and-

She closes her eyes, imagines the resounding splash of breaking waves, remembers the feel gritty sand in her mouth, the blast of wind against her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. She counts one, two and breathes a little more loosely.

Her eyes blink open.

Standing in front of her, panting, sweating, questionable stains on their armor, growing grins of disbelief - the Mighty Nein.

—

A second passes, then two, then more - no one saying anything. The longer the silence stretches, the more her stomach drops, the more the door calls to her.

“Um.” Better that it’s her who breaks the quiet, she figures. “Long time no see?” Her voice cracks, and her eye twitches, “Fuck, shit, I mean-”

Then. The shape of buttons against her calf. Calloused hand on her shoulder. Scent of incense and ink and saltwater and tea. Furry chin digging onto the top of her head. Strong arms around her. Mix of green, pink, white, blue, ginger, blurring together.

The tears are sudden, but she welcomes them all the same.

—

Reani arrives later, knowing grin on her face as she slides next to Beau at the table. The rest of the Nein waves, busy playing a Xhorhasian dice game Yasha was trying to teach them.

“Exciting enough?”

Beau snorts, nudges her on the arm with her shoulder. “You’re such an ass for not telling me,” she says, no actual malice in her voice.

Reani just laughs, shoves her back, Beau doesn’t even budge.

“Really though,” Beau says, tapping the table, “Thank you. For this. For everything. I owe you.” She coughs, rubs at the corner of her eyes.

Reani pretends she didn’t notice Beau’s voice crack, her grin settling into a smile. “We’re friends. You don’t owe me anything,” she pulls Beau into a quick side-hug, lets go. “Just visit more often and take care of yourself.”

They watch Fjord lose against Nott, cackling as he gets even greener, being forced to drink a mix of Caleb’s ale, Nott’s whiskey, and Jester’s milk. Nott slams her flask onto the table, flings the dice towards Beau. She catches them easily, rolls them around in her palm.

“I challenge Beau to this - Bunions and Dice? Whatever this game is called- and whoever loses has to pay for the drinks of _everyone_ in this tavern,” the halfling gestures wildly, nearly toppling Yasha’s ale. Nott holds out her hand, eyes squinting, “Do we have a deal?”

Beau stares at the hand, smirks, and squeezes the hand offered to her.

“Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> Past me forgot that: a) I had an AO3 account, and b) I intended to post this on here as well.
> 
> Thank you for reading :D


End file.
